A ragged, old, derelict shuffled into a down and dirty bar. Stinking of
whiskey and cigarettes, his hands shook as he took the "Piano Player Wanted"
sign from the window and handed it to the bartender.

"I'd like to apply for the job," he said "I was an F-4 driver and a
Lieutenant Commander in Naval Air, but when they retired the Phantom, all
the thrill was gone, and soon they cashiered me as well. I learned to play
the piano at O-Club happy hours, so here I am."

The barkeep wasn't too sure about this doubtful looking old guy, but it had
been quite a while since he had a piano player and business was falling off.
So, why not give him a try?

The seedy LCDR staggered his way over to the piano while several patrons
snickered. By the time he was into his third bar of music, every voice was
silenced. What followed was a rhapsody of soaring music, unlike anything
heard in the bar before. When he finished there wasn't a dry eye in the
place.

The bartender took the old fighter pilot a beer and asked him the name of
the song he had just played.

It's called "Drop your Skivvies, Baby, I'm Going Balls To The Wall For You!"
said the Commander. After a long pull from the beer, leaving it empty, "I
wrote it myself."

The bartender and the crowd winced at the title, but the piano player just
went on into a knee-slapping, hand-clapping bit of ragtime that had the
place jumping. After he finished, the fighter pilot acknowledged the
applause, downed a second proffered mug, and told the crowd the song was
called, "Big Boobs Make My Afterburner Light."

He then excused himself and lurched to the
john.

When he came out the bartender went over to him and said, "Look fly boy, the
job is yours, but do you know your fly is open and your pecker is hanging
out?"